


Red

by tennisuhs



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, one day ill find out their full names for their tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennisuhs/pseuds/tennisuhs
Summary: In order for goodness to exist, evil must be in the picture too. For light to be, there had to be darkness. Flaws had to be put in place so perfection could be defined. Frong loved every flaw Thara offered, every shade, every spot. However, here was evil in Thara, and Frong was dead set on defeating it.
Relationships: Frong/Thara, Thara/Frong
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Red

There are few truths in life, water’s wet, dogs go woof, and Frong loved Thara. 

Even if he was a couple months away to say it out loud. 

Frong loved Thara on Mondays, with his rebellious Sunday stubble still lingering on his chin. His petulant pout on his face through breakfast until Frong gave in and shaved him. The rush of the beginning of the week becoming white noise to their little bubble. 

Frong loved Thara on Tuesdays, as he all but bounced down the stairs from the hospital to the parking lot. As he all but smiled through the tiredness of his shift, kissing Frong like they were in an Audrey Hepburn movie. He would tell Frong about his shift in the pediatrist wing, about how kids are adorable and bundles of sunshine. While Frong just stared adoringly at him. 

Frong loved Thara on Wednesdays, when he drove Frong to class, hand on his thigh sunglasses on his nose. Frong always got to pick the playlist, and Thara always managed to find a song he liked, quickly asking Frong to put it in their shared playlist. 

Frong loved Thara on Thursdays, when Thara’s shift ended early and he got to cook. Thara was a great chef, or as great as a medical student soon-to-be graduate can be. Maybe a little too bland with the spices but Frong could cope. He could always sneak a bottle of paprika into his burritos when Thara wasn’t looking. 

Frong loved Thara on Fridays specially. Date night, movie night, whatever night. It wasn’t always theirs, sometimes Duen would pop into their life for a while to play videogames, the quite but charming Ram bringing snacks as he entered Thara’s apartment. Frong wasn’t the one for PDA, but when Thara was focused on beating Duen in rainbow road, his arm just seemed to find Thara’s waist. It was only natural. 

Just like having Thara pressed against him. Guests long gone, night getting deeper. Thara would muffle his moan against Frong’s shoulder, bite him until Frong saw stars. One day he would stop and read them, see where they lead. For now, he fears they would lead him away from Thara and his beautiful pleas. 

Frong loved Thara on the weekends. 

Frong loved Thara even if they were apart. 

But in order for goodness to exist, evil must be in the picture too. For light to be, there had to be darkness. Flaws had to be put in place so perfection could be defined. Frong loved every flaw Thara offered, every shade, every spot. However, here was evil in Thara, and Frong was dead set on defeating it. 

“A Monster sweater?” Frong almost caved into his knees, all air sucked away from his lungs like a venomous viper attack. “In this day and age?” 

“I don’t even remember buying it.” Thara shrugged from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Must be almost what? Ten years old?” 

Oh, that fucker was just rubbing it in now. 

Thara turned back to face the open wardrobe after a sigh. He wasn’t defeated. Faded out sweaters and crumbled up graphic tee-shirts who portrayed a now pathetic and decaying image of God know what, wouldn’t beat Frong. 

He climbed a fucking mountain out of spite, for fuck’s sake. Crumbs of plastic imagery were nothing. 

“At least tell me you don't own a pair of khaki pants because I am leaving.” Frong hid his begging with a thick blanket of sarcasm. 

“I used to.” Thara chirped. “But one day they wouldn’t fit. Like I couldn’t get them past my thighs.” The poor son of a gun sounded so confused, and it would be endearing if the challenge presented in front of Frong wasn’t as arduous as one of Hercule’s jobs. 

In his defense, Frong fell in love with Thara wearing a doctor gown. Well, actually, he fell the second that sunflower of a man stepped into his flower shop, white dress shirt and black pants. College uniform. 

“God fucking bless your squat routine.” Frong mumbled. 

Apparently too loudly because Thara started laughing. High pitched and dorky, and all that good stuff that made Frong feel like he swallowed a whole box of lucky charms. However, he wouldn’t budge. Not a smile. He wasn’t Frong the boyfriend right now, he was Frong the self-proclaimed fashion connoisseur of the bunch. And as such he could not allow Thara to have such horrible sense of style. 

Just like a good stylist, Frong’s services weren’t imposed but solicitated. Thara being the one to actually bring up how he needed to do some spring cleaning while they went on an late snack run. 

“I don’t know where to start.” Thara had said, ice-cream in his hand. “And when I do start, I always get distracted.” 

That’s why Frong agreed to spend a beautiful Sunday standing in front of what could only be described as a millennial hype beast's wet dream. 

Because after all, Frong loved Thara. 

The sun was setting when Frong taped the last cupboard box. Upon one last glance in the now mostly empty closet, save from Thara’s uniform sets, Frong finally smiled. No more godforsaken khakis, no more worn out Monster or fake Thrasher logos, no more fadeout sweaters with wholes in them. And no more hand-me-down socks. 

Finally, Frong clapped his hands clean and patted himself on the back. That was a job well done. 

Thara approached him holding a handkerchief, his other hand pushing Frong’s fringe away with a feather-like touch to wipe the beads of sweat. Sometimes it overwhelmed Frong just how much Thara cared, how precious Frong was to his boyfriend. It wasn’t the professional handling Thara sported at the hospital. It wasn’t as serious; his fingers danced a little in hesitation when it was just the two of them. 

Frong’s chest felt like had been borne open and someone was stabbing him with serotonin, he closed his eyes, let himself be taken care of. A small sigh shook its way out from Frong’s parted lips. 

Opening his eyes as Thara hummed, withdrawing the fabric, Frong remembered he had been granted the power and duty to kiss Thara whenever he pleased. Perks of being Thara’s boyfriend. 

So, he did. 

Thara smiled into the kiss, reciprocating after a blink of a second. And then some more. As many times as Frong leaned in. 

“Did you find anything you like?” Frong asked dragging himself out from the pure bliss that was gazing into Thara’s eyes. Boyfriend mode Frong was back and there to stay. 

So when Thara moved to fish his phone from his sweatpants, Frong placed his hand on Thara’s waist, leading him towards the living room. 

The window was still open ajar, distant sounds from the buzzing street rumbling softly, as the evening settled behind them in purples and pinks. The sun drew waters through the windows, reflecting in the wooden floor. Thara was still looking at his phone when they reached the couch, not even blinking as Frong pulled him into his lap. 

“Okay, I like these.” Thara begun, having to adjust a little in their position in order for Frong to see his screen. 

Frong had basically put Thara on time out after the fifth time the doctor tried to save some stupid piece of clothing. Frong’s tipping point had been when Thara clutched into his crocks against his chest like the y were his children. They had to negotiate since Thara wouldn‘t budge. They agreed that the those monstrosities would be banished to the very back of the closet until it was socially and age appropriate for Thara to wear them. Aka never. But Thara didn’t need to know that. 

Thara’s time out basically consisted into making a board on Pinterest with clothes and outfits he’d like to try. However, Frong secretly knew his boyfriend would get addicted to that damn app like the undercover white middle-aged woman he really was. Which would be good for Thara, since the doctor didn’t know how to waste time: always doing charity work, extra-curricular and helping the juniors as much as he could. 

Some entretainment in form of aesthetic pictures couldn’t harm him. Or at least so hoped Frong. 

“Short sleeve shirts. Solid choice.” Frong approved as Thara swiped, showing models wearing each a different colored and patterned shirt. 

All of them were practically made from the same material, but some were tighter than others, some were meant to wear unbottoned, some were more classic-looking. Maybe, Thara was basing his style on what he saw Frong wearing, but that was only a starting base for Thara. Everyone needed inspiration. 

Suddenly, one caught Frong’s attention. “The red one, yes. Red looks good on you.” 

“You sure?” Thara looked so lost, so genuinely lost that Frong felt as if he was taking advantage of him. 

“Thara, you seem to forget how fucking handsome you are. You could even pull off a plastic back on your head.” Frong replied, pecking Thara’s arm. 

“You are biased.” 

“Maybe, but you are still, objectively very handsome.” Their eyes met, Thara was almost frowning. Almost. Frong could only smile and peck his upper arm some more. “Listen, you are making the world a favour by dressing better." 

“You are exaggerating.” Yet, Thara still leaned in to rest his cheek against the top of Frong’s head, they he sighed as if he was letting go of a heavy weight. “I don’t know, I just never gave clothes that much of a thought.” Thara’s fingers were mindlessly fidgeting, so Frong played with them. “But I do admit these clothes don’t...resprsent me. They dont show how I really am.” 

“That’s right.” Frong agreed, squeezing Thara’s thumb after winning in their little thumb wrestling game none of them were too invested in. “Because you are a respected, admired, lovely, beautiful inside out, kind, caring, amazing...” 

The sun had long faded in the horizon, the night freshly young out from its veil and into the world. And as Frong talked he pulled Thara down, sideways to lay on the couch. Thara complied, holding onto Frong’s hands as he tried to interrupt with a familiar string of “Okay, okay.” 

“Soft, gentle, adorable, ambitious, dedicated, strong, incredible boy and soon-to-be doctor.” Frong finally finished, framing Thara against the couch. “As well as ...” 

Thara raised his eyebrows in anticipations, arms lazily wrapped around Frong’s shoulders. “Hm?” 

“The owner of my heart.” 

Before Thara could even gasp out an answer, Frong was already kissing him so deeply and passionately, that he himself forgot his own name. 

For some interesting fated coincidence, Duen caught Thara giving his still usable but old clothes to charity and decided to join Thara and Frong in their shopping spree. 

Duen also argued that he missed his cousin since he spent so much time in his internship. Truth be told, if Thara and Frong hadn’t been practically living together, Frong wouldn’t be able to see Thara half as much. 

Also, Duen added that he wanted to spend more time with him and Frong because were friends. Just friends. Good friends. I beat you at mario kart so let’s make it best out of three, kind of friends. 

But Bohn. 

“The fuck you are doing here?” 

“Can’t I just come with my boyfriend to the mall?” 

“Guys, come on.” Sighed Duen mostly to Bohn, pulling him by the hand to reprimand him silently. 

It wasn’t like Bohn and Frong hated each other, not anymore. Besides, such hatred died down pretty fast once they both settled down. Still, there was a never-withering sense of rivalry that linked him and Bohn together. They could never be friends. They had never wanted to be friends. They kept each other on their toes. That’s what they wanted. 

They were both very similar in pride and stubbornness. But they were also equally as whipped for their boyfriends so, for their sakes, Bohn and Frong signed a silent truce. And, off they went. 

The stores weren’t really that busy on a Thursday afternoon, however the music was as loud as the most popular club during Saturday’s rush hour. Thara had found some cute v neck cotton sweaters, that Frong could already tell would hug his waist perfectly, and Duen picked random stuff just to go with Thara into the changing rooms. 

Leaving Bohn and Frong alone. 

Bohn awkwardly paced around, trying his damn hardest to find something to entertain himself other than Frong. Which was not a bad plan, Frong considered doing the same. 

Until the bastard picked a graphic shirt with a kermit the frog picture and checked for the tag. 

“Bohn, for fuck’s sake I thought you at least had some self-love.” Blurted out Frong with a grimace. 

“Why? It’s kermit the frog.” The fact that he sounded so defensive of that godforsaken shirt, was what made Frong’s blood boil. 

“It’s not even a good picture of him!” Frong yelled. 

“He is a puppet! He doesn’t have good pictures!” Bohn yelled back and stomped his feet a little. 

“Please, tell me you aren’t arguing over kermit the frog.” Duen rolled his eyes at them, and then frowned as he caught a glimpse of the shirt his boyfriend was pressing against his chest. “Babe, I love you like to the moon and back but, this is where I draw the line. Put it back.” 

With a growl and a pout, Bohn put the shirt back to its place. 

As the cousins were queuing up to pay for their items, Frong decided he liked when he didn’t feel as if Bohn was going to jump on his neck at any given second. So, Frong walked towards the jacket section, picked a leather jacket. Black, a classic but with some 70’s looking patches and pins. Very Grease The Feature Movie looking, really. 

Frong brought it to Bohn, eyebrows raised. A peace offering. 

The engineer all but glared at it as if Frong had given him a shit on a stick. 

“Just try it on.” 

“Why would I humor you?” 

“I’m trying to be nice here. Just put it on.” 

That seemed to appease Bohn who silently agreed to their truth. The brute yanked the jacket from Frong’s fingers and reluctantly went to search for a full body mirror. Dropping the hanger loudly like the careless dumbass he was, Bohn tried the jacket over his clothes. He adjusted the collar a few times, and mindlessly nodded at his reflection. 

“Told you.” 

“It’s too hot to wear it, though.” 

“And yet, you keep wearing oversized denim jackets. Like sure they make you look big and all, but you have the chest to rock leather jackets better.” It had to come out as more aloof as it did, but Frong always got carried away when it came to fashion. 

Bohn hesitated, and looked at himself in the mirror once more, this time puffing his chest a little. “You think?” As much as Bohn was posing like some sort of eye candy model, his voice sounded almost small, unsure. 

That was new. 

“Yeah, you should go for tighter fits on your upper half, they’ll make you look buffier which is what all you engineer brick heads want.” 

“Hell yeah.” Bohn unabashedly smirked at his own reflection, taking what was aimed to be an insult, as a compliment. Again, a dumbass. 

As Frong turned to check on the queue, something caught his eye. “Wait, one more thing.” 

“No way.” 

“Just, trust me.” 

“I don’t fucking need glasses, asshole.” 

“They don’t have lenses.” Frong demonstrated by putting his fingers through where the lenses would go. “See? You fuckface just put them on.” 

“No!” 

“Put them on, you are going to break th-” 

“Are we interrupting something?” 

Well, the answer was yes, yes they were. If almost wresting Bohn like a damn lion to put on some fake glasses could be called ‘something’. 

Duen had his bag filled hands on his waist as he gazed upon the scene. Thara was physically restraining himself from laughing at Frong with the pair of glasses inches away from Bohn’s face, and Bohn’s hands on his wrist, pathetically pushing him away. 

Clearing their throats, the wrestling boys put an end to their struggle, Frong holding the glasses in his hand. 

When Duen saw them, golden frame tingling in the pearl white LED lights, his eyes widened almost comically. “Babe, put them on.” However, his voice was calm, almost monotone. 

“But-” 

“Shut up and put them on.” 

Bohn did, after Frong handed them to him blinking in confusion because never in a thousand years would have the business major thought that Duen had such attitude. It was eerie to see a boy who was normally the embodiment of a cinnamon bun, turn into quite the dominating figure. 

Bohn turned to Duen, glasses on. 

The smile was so big on Duen’s face that it broke whatever happened seconds ago. 

“My gosh! You look amazing! Gold is such your color, and look how they frame your face! We have to buy them babe, you have to wear them everywhere.” 

While Duen bathe his boyfriend in compliments, Frong silently stepped closer to Thara, arm spread out, ready to hold Thara’s hand. Instead, Thara handed him his bags. Not really what he was going for, but Thara held his free hand. Enough to make Frong smile for the rest of the evening. 

After the commotion and a good early dinner at the food court (sushi because they couldn’t choose so rock paper scissors had to save the day and Thara, as per usual, won) the boys headed home. 

Frong couldn’t remember the last time he slept at his dorm room. His roommate wasn’t really a joy to be around: homophobic, dad‘s money, pompous little shit who jacked off more times than he actually showered. Needless to say, Frong couldn’t wait for the semester to be over so he could finally and officially move in Thara’s place. Which he could afford to rent by himself. 

His tummy flipped every time has much as though about it. Frong. Living with his _boyfriend_ of almost one year. 

“Babe?” 

It was tender, almost a whisper twirling from the kitchen doorway. The kitchen was nice and all but the sink was on the opposite end from the entry, hence meaning that Frong’s back was facing Thara who sounded like he was containing his urgency. So, Frong put the alst now clean plate in the ruck and turned to look at his boyfriend. 

And the whole world stopped. 

With a scratching music sound, every motion came to a halt to Frong. 

Eyes getting watery after not blinking for what seemed like years, drool pooling in the corners of his lips from keeping his mouth open after his jaw dropped at the sight. Hell, if Frong had been holding that plate, it would have shattered into thousands of tiny pieces around his feet. That would have been a pain to clean, since Frong would have rather keep staring at Thara. 

It wasn’t a farfetched scenario, being Frong a very clumsy man. 

However, clumsiness had nothing to do with the fact that Frong wasn’t breathing. He felt like he was suffocating. His heart was drilling holes against his ribs, his stomach rocked like a wind boat in a tempestuous sea. 

The stars realigned, the moon turned her back on the world, only taking a small glimpse at the situation. Her stark silver light defining Thara’s figure like he was Adonis himself. Apollo and Aphrodite coming together to present him in front of Frong wearing a crop top. 

And a thong. 

“So, what do you think?” 

Frong tried to talk. He really really really tried to put together a sequence of words that made sense. But his brain was too occupied sending blood to his dick and panicking over how fucking otherworldly amazingly Thara looked. 

Thara hugged himself at the silence, darting his eyes away, insecure. 

And Frong saw white. 

When he came back to his senses, Frong was leaving hickeys down Thara’s neck, arms sneaking up that black crop top made out of pure sin. Actually, it was made of high-quality cotton, easy to clean and iron. A small red rose was embordered around the heart area. 

However, Frong couldn’t barely think straight enough to notice beyond the fact that said crop top fell just above Thara’s waist so beautifully. 

“I could eat you up. I could just eat you whole.” Frong growled against Thara’s pulse point. 

“Didn’t know you were into vore.” Thara, that fucker, joked. 

He knew he had the upper hand now, that he had rendered Frong to absolutely nothing but a lustful mush. If Thara had told Frong to go seige an entire city, he would have. No questions asked. 

Frong made it his mission to cut that mocking laughter short, his hand soon cupping one of his ass cheeks, squeezing it for what it was worth. Lips on Thara’s as his finger traced the small, delicate strand of fabric. 

“When did you buy this?” Frong panted before licking Thara’s nipple. 

“You said you like red on me.” That wasn’t really the reply Frong was going for, but seeing how Thara was already shaking in anticipation, Frong decided to not insist. 

Instead he pinched that sinful strand of fabric on the backside, pulled it a little and let it snap. Thara wined, falling into Frong’s arms for a second after losing his balance. 

“There’s something I like on you more than red, though.” Frong said, nose brushing against Thara’s temple, helping him stand a little before lifting him into a sloppy version of bridal style. “Me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! thank you so much for reading! ik this was kind of short but i hope you still liked it nontheless!  
> if you want to hmu my @ on twitter is bcsston see you there :)


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